


Soul (Train) Mates

by holmes221b



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Next Generation, Unstoppable (2010)
Genre: Angst, Crossover, F/M, Language, Spoilers, a lot of this won't make sense if you haven't see the movie, brief discussion of abortion, for unstoppable, medical gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-21
Updated: 2014-02-21
Packaged: 2018-01-13 07:10:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1217191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/holmes221b/pseuds/holmes221b
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One hero’s sacrifice leads to another.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Soul (Train) Mates

**Author's Note:**

> Written for j&b's crossover challenge (banner by [stormatdusk](http://stormatdusk.livejournal.com/)). I’ve made up names for Will’s son and sister-in-law. There’s at least one comment in here that could be taken as being anti-gay (at least, according to a note I wrote on the original draft, I can't find the comment now). And I swear by all that is holy, Christopher Pike showed up on his own.

"Why the Sam hill didn’t you come straight to the hospital!?" growled the doctor on duty in the ER. His name tag identified him as Leonard H. McCoy.  
"I didn’t think it was going to kill me to wait," Will Colson admitted, "was I wrong?"  
Doctor McCoy shook his head.  
"No, you’re not going to die, Mr. Colson," he acknowledged, before turning grave, "but you’ve probably worsened the fracture by walking on it, even once you got it put into a soft cast."  
"I suppose jumping around didn’t help either?" Will inquired.  
"That was unavoidable, Mr. Colson," the doctor replied, "what you did was extremely brave—somewhat stupid, but brave nonetheless."  
"Thank you, I think," Will remarked uncertainly.  
"Save your gratitude until after I’m actually finished with you, Mr. Colson," McCoy retorted, poking Will’s injured foot.  
"Motherfuck! That hurts!" the conductor yelped.  
"Well, at least your nerves are still intact," McCoy muttered, "hopefully they’ll stay that way once I’ve operated on you."  
"Operate? As in surgery?" Will asked.  
"Obviously," McCoy snapped, "but first I’ll need to get some x-rays done."  
The doctor then stepped out of the exam room without another word to Will. The conductor felt uncomfortable, being left alone like that. Luckily for him, Darcy came into the room shortly after McCoy’s departure.  
"Hey, Darcy," Will said, "I thought I was going to meet back up with you at home."  
"Joce insisted I go and be with you at the hospital," Darcy explained, "don’t worry ‘bout Chris, Joce’s watching him."  
"Pardon me," a nurse spoke up, interrupting the couple’s conversation, "but I need to take Mr. Colson down to Radiology to have his foot x-rayed."

~*~

Will didn’t see Doctor McCoy again until the next morning, just before he was to be allowed—at long last—to leave the hospital.  
"So I hear that you tried to leave the hospital last night, Mr. Colson," McCoy remarked.  
"No ‘good morning’?" Will asked, "no ‘how are you feeling, Mr. Colson’?"  
"Such niceties aren’t due to patients who think they know better than their doctors, Mr. Colson," the doctor replied, not missing a beat.  
"But I think I do know better, in this case," Will objected.  
McCoy slapped the back of Will’s head.  
"Which of us has the college degree here, me or you, infant?" the doctor snapped.  
"You?"  
McCoy muttered an oath under his breath.  
"What?" Will asked, "did I get a college degree without my knowledge since last night?"  
The doctor scowled at Will.  
"You’re free to go," he informed the conductor, "just be sure to follow the directions the nurse will give you on your way out, and check in with your doctor."  
"Isn’t that you?" Will asked sincerely.  
"I’m not a family doctor, Mr. Colson," McCoy replied, "I’m a trauma surgeon with a subspecialty in orthopedics."  
"Doesn’t orthopedics have something to do with bones?" Will asked.  
"Yes, it does," McCoy confirmed.  
"So you could still be my doctor," Will insisted.  
McCoy shook his head.  
"You are not coming into the ER for checkups, Mr. Colson," the doctor declared, "this is a trauma center, not a clinic."  
"I don’t have a doctor then," Will admitted.  
McCoy groaned.  
"I guess I have no choice in the matter," he grumbled.  
Will cocked his head, wondering what the gruff doctor with the strange accent was going to say next. He didn’t have long to find out.  
"I volunteer at a local free clinic on Fleet Street, Mr. Colson," he said with a sigh, "I’ll see you there as your ‘regular doctor’ for now."  
"For now?" Will pressed.  
"Just until your foot is fully healed," McCoy clarified, "after that, we’ll see whether I’ll continue or not."

~*~

By the time Will got home from the hospital, Chris had already left for school.  
"He wanted to stay home so he could welcome you back, but I promised that you would be waiting for him when he got home," Jocelyn informed Will, "oh, and Darcy, Mike says that he can bring over Will’s stuff whenever you are ready for it."  
Will sat down in the armchair in front of the TV before he realized what his sister-in-law had just told his wife.  
"Wait, does this mean I get to move back in?" he demanded.  
"Of course it does, Will," Jocelyn snapped at her brother-in-law, "I finally got _your wife_ to see reason.”  
"Don’t listen to Joce, Will," Darcy quickly advised her husband, "all she did was wake me up to let me know you were risking your life yesterday."  
"That was all I needed to do," Jocelyn declared, "I only hope that Chris is smarter than you two."  
"He’s my son, he’s going to take after me," Will insisted, still slightly loopy from pain meds, "and I don’t mean stoppin’ a runaway like I did yesterday."  
"I’d certainly hope not," Darcy agreed.

~*~

"Mom! I’m home!" Chris hollered as he stepped into the house.  
"Mom’s out grocery shopping, Chris," Will answered, startling his son from his seat on the armchair in the living room, his injured foot propped up on a stack of old phone books.  
"Dad!" yelped Chris before he leapt into his father’s lap—his backpack still on his back—and hugged him.  
"You’ve gotten so big, Chris," Will wheezed, just slightly out of breath.  
"It’s my backpack, Dad," Chris explained, "I have to carry so much stuff every day for school, I have to get bigger just carryin’ it."  
"Oh really now?" Will asked with a grin.  
"Yeah!" Chris affirmed.  
"Why don’t you get started on your homework," Will suggested.  
"Will you help me with it, Dad?" Chris asked.  
"Of course, kiddo," Will replied, "I’ll be up there in a moment."  
"But, Dad, there’s stairs," Chris objected.  
"Yeah, I know, Chris," Will replied, a bit confused.  
"And you broke your foot stoppin’ that train," Chris added, "I don’t want you to hurt yourself even more by fallin’ down the stairs, Dad."  
"I won’t fall, Chris," Will assured his son.  
"Promise?"  
"Promise."  
"Cross your heart and hope to die?" Chris asked.

~*~

Two hours later, Doctor McCoy was not amused to step out into the waiting room of the Fleet Street Free Clinic to find Will Colson and his young son waiting for him. With an annoyed sigh, the doctor waved the pair into his exam room.  
McCoy scowled at the way the conductor was holding his right arm as he limped into the exam room.  
 _Idiot probably tried to do something he was told not to do,_ the doctor growled to himself as he closed the door behind them.  
"So, to what do I owe the unwelcome pleasure of your presence, Mr. Colson?" McCoy asked.  
"Dad promised me he wouldn’t fall down the stairs trying to help me with my homework, Doctor McCoy," Chris informed the doctor.  
"Dammit, Mr. Colson, what the hell were you thinking!?" McCoy snarled at Will, forgetting that there was a child in the room in the face of his anger at his patient’s idiocy.  
"I didn’t fall down the stairs, Doctor," Will informed McCoy.  
"Yeah, well, your arm didn’t injure itself," the doctor snapped as he put on a pair of fresh gloves, "so what did happen?"  
Will blushed slightly before answering the doctor’s question.  
"The chair I was sitting in broke," he said, "I tried to keep myself from falling down."  
"Did you jostle your foot any?" McCoy demanded, deciding that the injured arm could keep for a little while longer.  
Will shook his head.  
"Good to hear," the doctor declared, before turning his attention to Will’s arm. He poked and prodded the conductor’s arm, trying to feel for any broken bones by touch alone.  
"Well, no obviously broken bones," the doctor announced, and not a moment too soon for Will, who felt like he was about to be very sick all over the doctor.  
"But my dad’s hurt, Doctor McCoy," Chris insisted.  
McCoy nodded in agreement.  
"Yes, your dad’s arm is injured, son, but his arm bones ain’t the problem."  
Still gritting his teeth, Will asked, “What is the problem, then?”  
"Pinched radial nerve," the doctor replied, pulling a syringe out of a nearby drawer as he spoke.  
"What’s that?" Will asked, indicating the syringe.  
"Painkiller," McCoy replied.  
"Can’t I get a pill or something?" Will begged.  
"Not if you want the pain to go away in the next couple of minutes," the doctor replied, "now quit bein’ such an infant, Mr. Colson."  
Will’s phone rang. McCoy grabbed it before Will could, and answered, “Hello, this is Will Colson’s phone. I’m his doctor, how can I help you?”  
A pause, as the caller identified themselves.  
"Ah, well, Mrs. Colson, your husband is mostly alright," the doctor replied, "just need to fix his radial nerve, and I’ll send him right home."  
Another pause, then McCoy said good bye and hung up.  
Will scowled at the doctor, but before the conductor could open his mouth, the doctor stabbed him with the syringe. The conductor promptly fainted.  
"Is he alright?" Chris demanded, concerned for his father’s well-being.  
"Yeah, he’s fine," McCoy assured Chris, "let me call your mom back so she can take you and your dad home once I’m done with his arm."  
Picking Will’s phone back up, McCoy called Darcy back.  
"Hello, Mrs. Colson, this is Doctor McCoy again," he said, "could you come to the Fleet Street Clinic to pick up your son and sign all the paperwork for your husband’s surgery?"  
A pause, as Darcy asked a question.  
"Well, he fainted after I administered a painkiller for his pinched nerve."  
Another pause, then McCoy snickered.  
"No, it was definitely a faint, ma’am, not a swoon. I should know, I’m from Georgia."

~*~

Will woke to find himself in his own bed, in his own home.  
"Huh?" he said brightly, confusion evident on his face.  
Darcy laughed from where she lay beside him on the bed.  
"Go back to sleep, sweetie," she ordered her husband, "everything is alright."  
"You sure?" Will asked, even as he struggled to stay awake just a little bit longer.  
Darcy smiled at him as she assured him that she was right. Will went back to sleep shortly after that, much to Darcy’s relief.

~*~

McCoy’s phone baa’d. The doctor sighed and picked up his phone.  
"Doctor Leonard McCoy speaking."  
 **"Hi, Bones,"** the caller replied, **"this is Will Colson. Remember me?"**  
"Unfortunately," McCoy replied, ignoring the fact that the conductor had come up with a nickname for him—at least for the time being, as he was more concerned with the fact that Will had managed to get a hold of his _unlisted_ cell phone number, “why are you calling me on my cell phone, Mr. Colson?”  
 **"Call me ‘Will’, Bones,"** Will insisted.  
McCoy sighed.  
"Fine, Will, why did you call me? And how’d the hell did you get my number?" the doctor demanded.  
 **"I just wanted to say thank you for helping me out yesterday at the clinic with my arm, Bones,"** Will explained, **"the lady at the front desk gave me your number. She’s convinced that you’re gay, by the way, did you know that?"**  
"Lucinda? Yeah, I’m aware," McCoy replied with a sigh, "did you tell her who you were?"  
 **"No, why?"** Will asked.  
"Just pray that she doesn’t figure out on her own then, Will," McCoy said, "or else she’ll try and convince your wife that you are cheating on her with me."  
 **"Seriously?"** Will demanded.  
"Yep," McCoy replied, "don’t worry about it, though, I’ll take care of her."  
 **"Okay then,"** Will said, **"well, that’s all I was calling you about, so I guess I’ll see you next week at my appointment, Bones."**  
"Good bye, then, Will," McCoy replied, and the conductor hung up before the doctor could tell him off for calling him ‘Bones’.  
"Damn idiot," he muttered into his phone, "where’d you even get the idea to call me ‘Bones’, anyways?"

~*~

Will was bored. Due to his injured foot, he wasn’t allowed to return to work until it had healed enough for the cast to be removed, and that was going to be several months—and even then, he might still not be able to return to work. This meant that the conductor had the house to himself while Darcy was at her job (her boss had decided to switch her to the day shift after the incident with Triple Seven) and Chris was at school. Daytime television could only interest him for so long before he moved on in search of the next thing to do to pass the time.  
So, three days after crushing his foot, Will was of a mind to disregard doctor’s orders and drive down to the local public library or something, Will hadn’t decided just yet. And that was when Frank Barnes showed up to check up on him (with Connie’s blessing), and rang the doorbell. Will limped over to the front door.  
"Oh, it’s you," the conductor stated, "what do you want?"  
"I brought you a gift from the retirement home," Frank quipped, holding out a wrapped box to Will.  
Will frowned at the box, like it was going to bite him if he touched it.  
"It’s not going to eat you, kid," Frank assured him, "go on and take it."  
"Where are my manners," Will muttered with a glare at his injured foot, "come on in and take a seat, Frank."  
Frank chuckled as he stepped into Will’s house.  
"You just want to get off your feet," he remarked, "nothing to do with respect for your elders."  
Will grinned.  
"Yeah, well, my doctor’s a sarcastic bastard with a fondness for needles, I’d like to avoid him as much as possible."  
"What happened to your arm?" Frank asked.  
"Pinched radial nerve," Will replied, "hurt it helpin’ my boy with his math homework."  
"I wasn’t aware that math homework could be so dangerous," Frank observed.  
"All I have to say is to avoid sitting in old wooden chairs," Will explained.  
Frank snickered.  
"So you injured yourself by trying to avoid harm, huh?" he asked.  
"Yep," Will sighed, "you mentioned something about a gift?"  
Frank nodded, before handing the box over to Will, who immediately opened it.  
"A model train set?" Will asked, "I’m not _that_ young, Frank.”  
"It’ll give you something to do while you’re stuck at home, Will," Frank explained, "and your boy will probably enjoy playing with it once you’ve finished making it."  
"Huh," Will said, "that’s a genius idea, wonder why I didn’t think of it."  
Frank laughed out right at that.  
"Probably because you’ve never been forced to sit around for months because of an injury before," he replied.  
"Oh, and you have?" Will challenged.  
"Almost got run over by a coaster my first day on the job, kid," Frank replied.  
"Almost? Sounds like you didn’t get hurt," Will remarked, "besides, how hard is it to get out of the way of a coaster?"  
"Judd Stewart knocked me out of the way, into a mile post, hard enough to break a couple of ribs," Frank replied.  
"Wait a minute, Judd Stewart, as in the guy who drove that engine that tried to slow down Triple Seven and failed?"  
Frank nodded.  
"He gave me a model train set like the one I got you while I was still in the hospital, and for the same reason," he added.  
"Something to do to stave off boredom?" Will guessed.  
The engineer nodded.  
"I should get started on it, then, I’m already bored of being stuck at home all day," Will declared.  
Frank chuckled at Will’s eagerness.  
"Just make sure you actually follow the directions that come with the kit," he advised.  
"You know me," Will assured Frank, "I’ll follow them exactly."  
Frank snorted.  
"That’s what I’m afraid of," he admitted with a slight grin.  
"You wound me, Frank," Will joked, "of all people, I would have thought that you would have more confidence in my abilities."  
"How many cars did we end up pulling the other day?" Frank reminded Will.  
"Hey, it turned out alright in the end, didn’t it?" Will shot back, "we got to be ‘big damn heroes’, to quote the _Stanton Times_.”  
"You actually read the newspaper?" Frank asked in surprise.  
"How else am I supposed to find out who is winning the world series?" Will quipped.  
Frank laughed.  
"You have a lot of promise, kid," he declared.  
"Considering what I did on my first day, I’d say that I agree."

~*~

Several months went dragging by, until the day finally came for the cast to be removed from his foot, but Will’s excitement was tempered by his concern for Darcy, who’d been acting a bit off lately. The conductor couldn’t lie to himself, he was worried that Darcy was having another affair (at least he wasn’t going to be an idiot and have his gun out in the open when he went to confront whomever Darcy was sleeping with this time). McCoy noticed this.  
"What’s wrong, Will?" the doctor asked as he cut through the hard plaster of the cast.  
"I think Darcy might be cheatin’ on me again," Will sighed.  
McCoy knew what was really going on with Will’s wife, but she had insisted that the doctor not tell her husband until she had a chance to tell him herself, and apparently Darcy had not yet gotten around to doing so. McCoy was not happy about this.  
 _Time to get creative,_ the doctor told himself.  
"What makes you think she’s having an affair?" McCoy asked.  
"Nothing in particular," Will admitted, "I just know that she’s keepin’ _something_ from me, is all.”  
"I’m sure she has a good reason for it, Will," McCoy assured the conductor, "don’t worry about it."  
"What if Lucinda’s spoken to her about her theory that we’re having gay sex?" Will wondered aloud.  
McCoy burst out laughing, remembering the confrontation between the receptionist and Darcy very well.  
"What?" Will asked, confused.  
The doctor stopped laughing as he recalled that he wasn’t even supposed to tell Will why Darcy had been in the clinic that day.  
"The idea of us having gay sex is just too ludicrous," he lied.  
Okay, well, it really was a ludicrous idea, since they were both totally straight men, but that wasn’t really _why_ he was laughing, hence his words were a lie.  
"Yeah, I suppose it is," Will agreed, "I never really found gay sex very appealing, mostly because it just wasn’t good enough for me."  
"Enough?" McCoy frowned.  
"Yeah," Will said, "I get more pleasure out of havin’ sex with Darcy than I ever did with a guy." "Wait a minute, you’ve had gay sex?" McCoy demanded.  
"I was a kid," Will defended himself, "I wasn’t even sure what I was into, back then."  
McCoy desperately wanted brain bleach at this point. He was a trauma surgeon, not a sex therapist, after all, he’d rather not hear about the sexual conquests of his patients.  
 _Oh god, why have you abandoned me?_ he quipped to himself.

~*~

That evening, Will discovered Darcy’s secret, and it was completely on accident. He found an _open_ box of pregnancy tests under the bathroom sink, while in search of cotton balls and rubbing alcohol.  
"Darcy!" he hollered.  
"What?" his wife hollered back.  
"Are you pregnant?" Will shouted.  
Silence, then the sound of hurried footsteps heralded Darcy rushing into the bathroom.  
"Are you pregnant, Darcy?" Will asked again.  
"I was going to surprise you with a nice dinner, then tell you, Will," she admitted, "but yes, I am pregnant."  
"Can we afford a second child?" Will wondered aloud.  
"We aren’t getting an abortion, Will," Darcy insisted.  
"Wasn’t even thinking of that, Darcy," Will admitted.  
"What were you thinking of, then?"  
"Whether we’d need to get a bigger house or not at some point in the near future," Will replied.

~*~

McCoy’s phone started bleating as he pulled out of his driveway, causing the doctor to wonder whether telemarketers had started calling people in the mornings to make them late for work instead of interrupting dinner.  
"Doctor Leonard McCoy speaking."  
 **"Hey, Bones, guess what? Darcy’s pregnant!"** Will happily informed the doctor.  
"Why are you calling me, Will?" McCoy demanded, "I’m your doctor, not your best friend."  
Will chuckled.  
 **"I’m the closest you’ve got to a best friend, Bones,"** he insisted, **"not to mention that you’re far from home, which means you don’t have any family who live nearby."**  
"Are you stalking me?" McCoy demanded.  
 **"No,"** Will replied, **"Lucinda told me all about your lonely life."**  
McCoy sighed.  
"Fine, we’re friends," he said sullenly.  
A train whistled in the distance from McCoy’s cell phone.  
 **"Gotta go, it’s my first day back on the job,"** Will said, **"bye, Bones!"**  
"Bye, Will," McCoy said before hanging up.

~*~

"You going to be chattin’ on your phone all day again?" Frank asked Will as they headed out to the rail yard.  
Will shook his head.  
"Nope," he assured the engineer.  
"Good," Frank declared, “‘cause we don’t want a repeat of what happened the last time you rode a train, now do we?"  
"Yeah, I could do without the runaway," Will declared.  
"Well, that too," Frank agreed, "but I was referring to your mistake in counting the cars."  
"You’re never going to let me forget that, are you?" Will asked.  
"Never," Frank vowed, "it’s great to have you back, kid."  
"It’s great to be back," Will declared, "I think I might have actually missed you."  
"Probably just boredom," Frank figured.  
"Yeah, you’re probably right," Will agreed, "although it is kinda weird."  
"Our engine today?" Frank asked as they strode over to the engine in question.  
Will nodded.  
"Well, we can handle any mischief Triple Seven tries," Frank declared.  
"Probably why they assigned her to us," Will observed as he climbed aboard the engine.

~*~

Frank glanced in the rear view mirror and grabbed the walkie-talkie.  
"What’s taking so long?" he asked, even though he already knew the answer.  
 **"Just double checking that I tied up the right number of cars,"** Will replied, slightly annoyed, **"and you just made me lose count."**  
Frank chuckled to himself, though he was proud of how Will had learned from his mistakes.  
"Well, hurry up then," he said, "we don’t have all day."

~*~

Meanwhile, at Stanton General, McCoy was in surgery, trying to save the life of a man who had been badly injured in a nasty car accident involving a semi, a bicyclist, two pedestrians, and a sedan.  
"Was this guy even wearing a seat belt?" McCoy wondered aloud as he pulled out yet another chunk of steering wheel from the man’s chest.  
"Considering the amount of steering wheel you’ve been pulling out of him, I suspect not," the nurse assisting McCoy, Christine Chapel, replied.  
"He doesn’t have any head trauma," objected Geoffrey M’Benga, the neurologist who had been called in because of the possible head injuries McCoy had thought the patient might have had, from where he stood keeping watch over the man’s vitals.  
"I’m still ordering an MRI anyways," McCoy insisted.  
As the doctor finished closing up the patient, M’Benga announced, “Vitals are dropping.”  
McCoy swore after he glanced up at the monitor.  
"There must be another bleed that we’ve missed," the trauma surgeon declared, "Chapel, I need scissors."  
"Don’t do that, Nurse," M’Benga called, "I’ve found the bleed."  
The neurologist held up a gloved hand stained with blood as he spoke.  
"Are you sure, M’Benga?" McCoy demanded, "I mean, the patient _has_ been bleeding out quite a bit, after all.”  
"Absolutely, Doctor," M’Benga replied, indicating the patient’s head as he spoke, "I’m a neurologist, and brain injuries are what I know best."  
McCoy nodded.  
"It’s your call, then, M’Benga," he announced, "what do we do now?"

~*~

As they pulled into the rail yard at the end of the day, Will asked, “So how’d I do?”  
"You weren’t perfect," Frank remarked, "but you were certainly much better than last time."  
"My foot agrees with you," Will observed as Frank shut down Triple Seven’s engine.  
The engineer chuckled.  
"You probably should take it easy, Will," he remarked, "you’re starting to favor your foot, I’ve noticed."  
"Nah, I’ll be fine, Frank," Will assured the engineer, "the doctor wouldn’t have let me go back to work if I wasn’t, right?"  
Frank shrugged.  
"Maybe he wasn’t expecting you to go straight back into the thick of things like you did?"  
"You worry too much, Frank," Will declared.  
"You don’t get to be my age by not worrying," the engineer observed.

~*~

By the time Will pulled into his driveway, he wasn’t putting _ANY_ weight on his foot. He limped slowly into the house, where Darcy was waiting for him.  
"What were you thinking, Will?!" she demanded once she had her husband sitting in the armchair with his foot propped up, "you can’t just jump straight into work like that!"  
"I was thinking that—" he began to say in his defense, but Darcy interrupted him.  
"I don’t care what you were thinking, Will," she declared, "and I don’t care what you say, I’m calling Doctor McCoy."  
"Why are you calling him?" Will demanded.  
"Because you are a damn fool, Will Colson, that’s why," Darcy replied, "and I don’t want your stupidity turning you into a cripple for the rest of your life."  
"It’s almost 10:30, Darcy, he’s probably getting some much deserved rest," Will objected.  
"He’s a doctor, Will, he’s used to getting not enough sleep," Darcy pointed out, "it comes with being a doctor."  
"How would you know?" Will demanded.  
"Doctor McCoy himself told me."  
"Why would he tell you that?" Will wondered.  
"He figured that if he was going to have you as a friend, he might as well get to know your family," Darcy replied, pressing send on her cell phone.

~*~

McCoy had been too exhausted after his long day in the ER to risk driving home, so he ended up crashing in the doctor’s lounge, which had cots set up for just this very purpose. However, he wasn’t exhausted enough to sleep through the bleating of his cell phone.  
 _Who the hell is calling my_ UNLISTED _cell at whatever the time it is now?_ wondered McCoy as he groggily groped at his cell phone.  
"Hullo?" the doctor yawned.  
 **"Is this Doctor McCoy?"** the caller—a woman, it sounded like—inquired.  
"Yep," McCoy confirmed.  
 **"This is Darcy Colson, Doctor,"** she said, **"and I’m calling about my husband, Will."**  
"What’s he done now?" McCoy asked, hoping that whatever it was could wait until morning.  
 **"Today was his first day back at work, and well, he decided to stand on his feet all day,"** Darcy explained, **"and now he can’t even limp without feeling pain."**  
McCoy swore.  
 **"My feelings exactly, Doctor,"** Darcy agreed, causing the doctor to blush in the darkness of the lounge as he realized that he had cursed in front of a lady.  
"I apologize for my foul language, Mrs. Colson," McCoy said, "regardless of how applicable such language is in this situation, that’s no excuse for using such language in the presence of a lady such as yourself."  
 **"I’ve heard much worse, Doctor,"** Darcy assured him, **"and _said_ much worse, when Will got home today.”**  
McCoy yawned.  
"Sorry about that, you woke me up from a much needed rest at the end of a very long day, ma’am," he explained.  
 **"I wouldn’t have called you if it weren’t an emergency, Doctor,"** Darcy said, **"but if you think it can wait until morning, then I’ll make sure he’s at the Fleet Street clinic first thing tomorrow."**  
"Unfortunately, ma’am, I don’t think he’ll keep until morning," he informed Darcy.  
 **"Should I bring him over now, then?"** she asked.  
The doctor shook his head.  
"No, I’ll come to you," he said aloud with another yawn.  
 **"Are you sure?"** Darcy questioned, **"you sound pretty exhausted."**  
"That’s because I am," McCoy admitted, "I’ll get one of the nurses going off duty to give me a ride."  
 **"Let me call my sister, she can come over and get you, Doctor,"** Darcy offered.  
McCoy thought about it for a moment, then sighed.  
"Fine," he said at length, "I’ll be waiting for her in front of Stanton General Hospital."

~*~

Ten minutes later a green Ford Focus hatchback pulled in front of Stanton General, coming to a stop in front of McCoy. The passenger side window slowly rolled down (no automatic windows on this car), and the driver of the vehicle inquired, “Are you Doctor McCoy?”  
"Yeah," yawned the doctor, "who wants to know?"  
"I’m Jocelyn Darnell, Darcy Colson’s sister," the driver replied, "get in."  
McCoy immediately hopped into Jocelyn’s car. Having been raised well by his parents, the doctor rolled up the window for Jocelyn without her having to ask him.  
"Thanks," Jocelyn said as the doctor settled back in the passenger seat.  
"No problem," McCoy replied, "it’s the least I could do for you."  
"Are you gay?" Jocelyn suddenly asked, a couple minutes later.  
"Huh?" McCoy asked, having been dozing off.  
"You seem awfully interested in my brother-in-law," Jocelyn explained, "and I’m worried that you’ll try and steal him away from Darcy."  
"That’s crazy talk," McCoy yawned, "Will and I may be soul mates, but I’ll never take Darcy’s place as his wife."  
"Good, ‘cause I’d hate to have to ruin your good looks, Doctor," Jocelyn declared.

~*~

As it turned out, Will hadn’t re-broken his foot—though it probably was a close thing, according to McCoy.  
"You’re just lucky that we have a portable x-ray machine, Will," the doctor declared, "transporting you to the hospital might have added to your stupidity and re-break your foot."  
"Will I be able to go back to work in the morning?" Will inquired.  
McCoy sighed.  
"What time do you plan on heading out to the rail yard?" he asked.  
"Seven," Will replied, unsure as to why the doctor wanted to know.  
"I’d hate to impose on your generosity, Darcy, but the only way your idiotic husband is going to be able to go back to work in seven hours is if I put a brace on his foot and keep him off his feet during the day."  
"And you need a ride back to the hospital to get a brace?" Jocelyn guessed.  
McCoy nodded.  
"I also need to let my boss know that I won’t be coming in for the next couple of days," he added.  
"Days?" echo’d Will, surprised.  
"I need to make sure you don’t do anything else to further set back your recovery, Will," McCoy explained.

~*~

Eight hours later, McCoy parked Will’s pick-up in the conductor’s usual spot in the rail yard parking lot.  
"Are you sure about this, Bones?" Will asked, "I don’t know if you’re even allowed into the engine room."  
"I spoke with your boss just before we left your house, Will," McCoy assured his friend, "and she gave me permission."  
"Okay then," Will said unhappily, "but don’t blame me if you get hurt or killed, Bones."  
"No promises," McCoy replied, "now let’s get this day started."

~*~

Frank Barnes was waiting for them in the break room.  
"Who’s your friend there, Will?" the engineer asked, indicating the doctor as he spoke.  
"Frank, this is my very annoying shadow, Doctor Leonard McCoy," Will said, before turning to McCoy and introducing the engineer to him.  
"It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Barnes," McCoy said as he shook the engineer’s hand.  
"Mine as well, Doctor," Frank assured McCoy.  
"Frank, do you know where Connie is?" Will asked once they were done with the pleasantries.  
"In the control room, Will," Frank replied, "why do you want to know?"  
"Bones here wants to shadow me all day on the tracks, and I wanted to make sure that was alright with her," Will replied, indicating the doctor as he spoke.  
"Connie mentioned that to me, Will," Frank admitted, "and she wants me to brief the doctor on train safety before the three of us head out for the day."  
"Like I told you, Will, I’d already called your boss and discussed it with her," McCoy quipped.

~*~

McCoy insisted on wearing a bright yellow safety vest, and made sure that Will wore his—”Dammit, Will, you’re not as mobile as Frank is, so put the damn vest on!”—before the doctor would allow them to enter the rail yard proper.  
"Which engine are we driving today, Frank?" Will asked as the trio strode into the rail yard.  
"Ten-Forty," Frank replied.  
"I thought they retired her," Will remarked, "isn’t she like fifty years old or something?"  
Next to the conductor, the doctor visibly paled at Will’s words.  
"You alright, Doctor?" Frank asked.  
"I’m fine," McCoy assured him, too quickly to be honest.  
The engineer gave him a knowing look, but the doctor continued to insist that he was fine, so Frank was forced to concede that perhaps the doctor knew what he was talking about. Besides, who was afraid of trains in this day and age, anyways?

~*~

Apparently, the good doctor _was_ one of those few people who feared trains, despite his claims otherwise.  
"Doctor, are you _sure_ you’re alright?” Frank asked as they rolled out of the rail yard.  
"I’m _fine_ , Mr. Barnes,” McCoy grumpily insisted.  
"You’re paler than a snow bank, Bones," Will observed.  
"Doctor, if you’re coming down with something, then you shouldn’t be here," Frank pointed out.  
"I ain’t sick," McCoy snapped, his Southern accent flaring as he spoke.  
"Well, Bones, why else are you so pale?" Will demanded.  
"I don’t like riding trains," McCoy admitted softly.  
"I think there’s more to this than simple ‘dislike’, Doctor," Frank remarked drily.  
"It’s nothing you need to worry about, Mr. Barnes," the doctor growled.

~*~

**"Ten-Forty, this is Dispatch, do you copy?"**  
Frank picked up the microphone and held it near his mouth as he spoke.  
"Loud and clear, Dispatch," the engineer replied.  
 **"What’s your current location, Ten-Forty?"** the dispatcher asked.  
"About fifty miles out of Stanton, Dispatch," Frank reported.  
 **"Ten-Forty, there’s a derailment about thirty miles ahead of you,"** the dispatcher alerted them.  
"We’ll have to stop on the tracks, Frank," Will informed the engineer.  
"Did you catch that, Dispatch?"  
 **"Loud and clear, Ten-Forty, you will be stopped on the tracks,"** the dispatcher acknowledged, **"Dispatch out."**  
"What’s going on?" McCoy asked as the train came to a stop a few miles later.  
"A train derailed on the track between us and Stanton, Bones," Will replied.  
"There could be people badly injured," the doctor stated, "we need to get over there, not just sit around doing nothing."  
"Doctor, a train takes a lot longer to stop than a car," Frank remarked.  
"I know that," McCoy snapped, "what’s your point?"  
"If we miscalculate even slightly, Bones, we could end up making things worse."  
"Dammit, Will, I’m a doctor, not a railroad employee."  
"I know, Bones, but there’s nothing you can do," Will said soothingly.  
"That might not be entirely true," Frank said suddenly, "I have an idea."  
"Frank, we can’t—" Will began to object, but Frank interrupted him.  
" _We_ aren’t doing anything, Will," the engineer said, before picking the microphone back up and calling Dispatch back.  
"Dispatch, this is Ten-Forty," Frank said, "do you copy?"  
 **"Loud and clear, Ten-Forty,"** the dispatcher on duty replied, **"what do you need?"**  
"Dispatch, we have a doctor on board, and he would really like to lend a hand," Frank replied.  
 **"How far from the derailment are you, Ten-Forty?"**  
"About 25 miles, give or take a few inches," Frank replied.  
 **"There’s a helicopter in route from Ames, should be arriving at your location in about ten minutes, Ten-Forty,"** the dispatcher announced.  
"Understood," Frank said, "Ten-Forty out."  
The engineer then turned to the doctor and asked, “How good of a climber are you, Doctor McCoy?”  
McCoy gulped, but that was the only outward indication of the fear that the doctor was experiencing that Frank could see.  
"Uh, well, I’m not a fan of heights," the doctor admitted, "but if that’s the only way, then I’ll manage."  
"Will, come over here and keep an eye on the dials," Frank ordered, "while I get the doctor into position."  
"Good luck, Bones," Will said encouragingly.

~*~

"Dispatch, this is Two-Sixteen," engineer Neal Birch said in a deceptively calm voice, "how far out is medical assistance?"  
 **"A helicopter from Ames is on its way, Two-Sixteen,"** the dispatcher assured the engineer, **"their estimated time of arrival at your location is about six minutes."**  
"Tell them to hurry up, I don’t think Chris is going to last that long," Neal grimly requested.  
 **"They’re going as fast as they can, Two-Sixteen,"** the dispatcher assured him.

~*~

Ten minutes went by all too quickly for McCoy and it wasn’t long before he could hear the sound of the helicopter’s blades slicing through the late afternoon sky.  
 **"Frank, the helicopter pilot says that he can see the two of you,"** Will reported over the engineer’s walkie-talkie.  
"Tell him that the doctor is ready when he is," Frank ordered.  
 **"Chopper Ten, the package is ready for pick-up,"** Will announced.  
 **"You’ve been watching too many spy movies, Ten-Forty,"** grumbled the pilot before informing the conductor (as well as the doctor and Frank, via Will’s walkie-talkie) that he was coming in.

~*~

"Mr. Birch!"  
The engineer turned to face the harried, bruised teacher who had called his name, but before he could ask her what was wrong, he spotted the helicopter heading towards them.  
"Keep everyone calm, Mrs. Cooper," Neal ordered, "we don’t need anyone rushing the helicopter."  
The school teacher went over to where she and the other adults had herded the children to after the train had derailed and immediately began giving instructions. Neal turned his attention back to the helicopter as it carefully landed in a nearby meadow, a few feet away from the derailed train. The rotors had barely started slowing down when a man raced out of the cockpit, a bag in one hand.  
"I’m Doctor McCoy," the man said once he was close enough to the engineer for conversation, "who is the worst off?"  
"The conductor, Doctor McCoy," Neal replied, "he’s still in the engine room. Everyone else was able to get out safely."  
McCoy nodded.  
"Take me to him, then," the doctor ordered.  
"The train isn’t stable," Neal warned, but McCoy ignored him.  
"What about them?" the doctor demanded instead, indicating the school group huddled nearby.  
"You’ll have to talk with Mrs. Cooper for more details, but the adults all are Red Cross certified," Neal replied.  
McCoy gave the engineer a sharp look.  
"Mrs. Cooper mentioned that to me earlier," Neal explained, "the engine room is accessible by this ladder."  
"Doctor McCoy?" a female voice called, "do you need any assistance?"  
McCoy shook his head.  
"No, Doctor Crusher, I’ll be fine," he replied, "go with the engineer here and see to the kids over there."

~*~

Christopher Pike frowned. He thought he had heard voices, but he wasn’t sure if they were real or just wishful thinking—or even something worse.  
 _Neal better not be thinking of staying in here with me,_ the conductor thought to himself, _it ain’t safe in here._  
"Chris?"  
"Dammit, Neal, I thought I told you to stay with the kids," wheezed Chris.  
"Neal is with the kids, Chris," the voice assured him.  
"Then who are you?" the conductor demanded.  
"I’m Doctor Leonard McCoy, and I’m here to save your life."  
"Good luck with that," Chris gasped.  
"I’m going to ask you a series of questions while I assess and treat your injuries," McCoy informed the conductor, "I want you to answer those questions as truthfully as you are able. If you don’t know the answer to the question, then say so. You understand what I’m asking you, Chris?"  
"I understand."  
"Good," the doctor declared as he poked at the duct tape bandage Chris had had Neal wrap around his waist, "what’s this?"  
"Duct tape," Chris replied, "I sliced myself open on the dashboard when the train derailed."  
McCoy pulled a pen light out of a pocket (at least, Chris figured that’s where the doctor kept his pen light) and checked the makeshift bandage.  
"Well, at least it’s keeping your blood inside your body," he declared at length, "where do you feel pain?"  
"Just in my head," Chris replied, grateful that he couldn’t see the doctor’s face in the semi-darkness of the engine room.  
"Might be shock," McCoy remarked, "follow the light with your eyes without moving your head." Ignoring the sharp stabbing pain the bright light triggered in his head, Chris did as he was directed. The doctor hummed thoughtfully afterwards.  
"Doctor?" Chris asked.  
"Well, your pupils are reacting beautifully to the light, so you aren’t currently bleeding into your brain," McCoy replied, "but that doesn’t mean you got out of this without any brain damage."  
"Don’t you need a hospital to determine that?" Chris asked.  
"Depends on the damage," McCoy replied, "but I can still do the basics here while we wait for it to be safe to move you."  
"Why wait?" Chris inquired.  
"Well, I’d rather not have the train shift while we’re moving you out," the doctor explained.  
"Yeah, I can see how that would be a problem," Chris agreed, "but can I wait that long?"  
"You’re stable enough right now, as long as they don’t take _too_ long,” McCoy replied, “anyways, let’s start with the easy questions.”  
"Easy questions?" Chris asked.  
McCoy chuckled, before asking, “What day of the week is it?”  
"Tuesday," the conductor said, "or at least, it was when my train derailed."  
"It’s still the same day," McCoy assured him, "who is the president of the United States?"  
"Barack Obama."  
"Vice president?"  
"Joe Biden?" Chris said uncertainly.  
"Are you asking or telling me?" McCoy inquired.  
"I’m not sure what the vice president’s name is, Doctor," Chris admitted, "I only know the president’s name because he’s on the news a lot. I honestly could care less about the vice president, I don’t need to know his name in my line of work."  
"Good point," McCoy acknowledged, "what about your train?"  
"What about it?" Chris asked, "it’s derailed, I got injured, end of story."  
"What’s its number?" the doctor clarified.  
"Ah, you mean the engine," Chris said, "Two-Sixteen."

~*~

Hours later, Ten-Forty pulled into the Stanton Rail Yard.  
"I wonder how your doctor friend is doing, Will," Frank remarked idly.  
"I’m hoping that he’ll be waiting for me by my pick-up," Will admitted.  
"Oh?"  
"Yeah, ‘cause I’m not allowed to drive for a while," the conductor explained, "doctor’s orders and all that."  
Frank nodded in understanding.  
"I could give you a ride home," he offered.  
"Nah, I’ll manage on my own, regardless of what Bones thinks I can handle," Will replied, "besides, I’ve been off of my feet all day like a good little boy, I’m sure it wouldn’t do me any harm to drive myself home."

~*~

McCoy had insisted that Chris be taken to Stanton General, and since the hospital had a helipad, the conductor was admitted there. Within minutes of arrival, Chris was in an operating room under McCoy’s scalpel.  
"Only you could take a day off from work and still end up with a patient, Len," Chapel drily observed as they scrubbed their hands in preparation for surgery.  
"I already had a patient," McCoy reminded her, "Will Colson."  
"The cute one," Chapel stated, "too bad he’s already taken."  
McCoy rolled his eyes.  
"Just focus on the patient we are operating on, okay?" he requested.  
"Of course, Doctor McCoy," Chapel sniffed in feigned reproach as they entered the operating room, "what do you take me for, a blonde?"

~*~

Darcy frowned as she saw that Will was alone in his truck as her husband pulled into the driveway.  
"Bones had an emergency, Darcy," the conductor explained, "I’m sure you’ve heard about the train that derailed this afternoon."  
Darcy nodded.  
"The people on the news are saying that it might have been the work of terrorists, Will," she added, "I do hope that Doctor McCoy is alright."  
"He’s fine, Darcy," Will assured her, "in fact, he’s probably already operating on Chris."  
"Uncle Chris?"  
Will nodded.  
"I need to go to the hospital, Will," Darcy said, "I’m the only family he’s got left—well, besides Joce, but she and Uncle Chris never really got along."  
"Darcy, you are not driving yourself to the hospital," Will insisted.  
"Well, you’re not driving either, Will," Darcy pointed out, "it’s bad enough that you drove home!"  
"I know, and I wasn’t going to suggest it," the conductor assured his wife, "however, I can call Frank and see if he’s willing to give us a lift to the hospital."

~*~

It was dawn by the time Chris was wheeled out of the operating room.  
"Chapel, make sure his next of kin gets notified," McCoy yawned, "I don’t know if they’ve already been contacted or not, but it never hurts to make sure."  
"I’ll have Ny do it," Chapel informed the doctor, "now go get some rest, Len."  
"Gonna take a shower first," McCoy grumbled.  
"That would be a great idea," the nurse agreed, "just don’t drown and turn the locker rooms into a crime scene, ya hear?"

~*~

"Oh shit!" McCoy swore as he realized that he’d left Will behind without a driver.  
Turning off the water, he hurriedly toweled himself off, changing into a clean set of scrubs once he was dry. As he hurried towards the front desk, the doctor ran into someone.  
"Sorry!" McCoy called as he kept on running through the hospital corridors.  
"Where are you going in such a hurry, Bones?"  
McCoy froze.  
“ _Will_?” he demanded, not turning around.  
"The one and only," Will confirmed.  
McCoy turned around to face his friend.  
"What—how?" he spluttered.  
"I drove myself home," Will explained, "but don’t worry, I didn’t drive to the hospital, Frank drove us up here."  
"Us?"  
"Yeah, my wife is Christopher Pike’s next of kin," Will explained, "actually, we were already at the hospital before they called her to tell her about what had happened to her uncle."  
"Well, at least you’re half-able to take care of yourself," McCoy muttered before forcing the conductor to sit down in a nearby chair.  
Once Will had sat down, he held out his hand to the doctor.  
"You left your cell phone behind in the engine room, Bones," he said, "I figured that you would like to have it back."  
"You figured correctly," McCoy snapped, taking his phone back from Will, "did you do anything to it?"  
"I didn’t touch a thing," Will assured him, but the doctor wasn’t fooled.  
"Right," McCoy said doubtfully.  
"Really, I didn’t do anything to it," Will insisted.  
"Help! I need a doctor!" Darcy shouted from inside her uncle’s room.  
McCoy and Will raced into the room.  
"Shit," McCoy swore.  
Chris’ vitals were all over the place before suddenly flat lining, setting off the alarms on the monitors hooked up to him.  
"Will, get Darcy out of here," the doctor ordered as he hurriedly lowered Chris’ bed so that he could begin administering chest compressions.  
Will ushered his wife out of the room as two nurses entered, towing a cart full of life-saving equipment behind them. Out in the corridor, they couldn’t tell what was going on inside Chris’ room, but being in the dark didn’t do anything to soothe their fears.  
"Bones is the best doctor here," Will assured his wife, "probably the best doctor in the world. Chris will be fine."  
 _He’s gotta be fine,_ the conductor thought to himself.  
Sometime later, McCoy stepped out of the room, looking pissed.  
"Doctor?" Darcy asked.  
"He’s fine," the doctor assured her, "he just had a bad reaction to the antibiotics, that’s all. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go talk with the on-duty nurse."  
The two nurses stepped out of the room as Will and Darcy re-entered it. One of the nurses returned to Chris’ room moments later to explain what had just happened.  
"Usually the doctor would be explaining this," he concluded, "but there are potentially other lives at risk in this hospital from this mix-up, which is why he didn’t stay to explain it to you himself."  
"What I don’t understand is how they could have given Chris something he was allergic to, isn’t that on his file?" Will demanded.  
"It is on his file, sir," the nurse informed him, "that is why it is so important that we find out who actually administered his IV so that we can make sure no one else gets the wrong medication."

~*~

"Christine!"  
Chapel turned to face her coworker, Nyota Uhura.  
"What is it, Ny?" she asked.  
"Doctor McCoy’s torturing the residents again," Uhura replied.  
Chapel groaned.  
"I haven’t even had my first cup of coffee yet," she grumbled as she stalked off to rescue the defenseless residents from the ire of Doctor McCoy.

_The End...for now_

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanted to add a comment on the discussion about abortion that happened in this story. I myself am for abortion (so I guess you could say I am pro-choice). However, I think Darcy happens to be against abortion, and she's worried about being able to support a second child. Hence her concern on the matter.


End file.
